But how are they to call on Him in whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in Him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone preaching? -Romans 10:14-15

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Street Pastors - Cork

I've been assigned to Dave for the night. He hands me one of the notorious Street Pastor lolly pops, as we step out the door and head for town. We chat about Cork and what Saturday night in the town looks like. About his heart for Street Pastors, and what's God's done through them in the city. 

As we get into town my senses are assaulted with the smells of chippers, pizza, urine, beer, perfume, cocktails, fags and pot. With people brushing past through crowed alley's. Or getting hugged by randomers. Or someone grabbing my elbow as I try crossing the street before I look. My ears ring with girls screeching, men singing and pubs blasting music out onto the streets. 

Very early out, we come across Andreas. A polish man, begging. Apparently he's very well known, not just by the Street Pastors, but  also by the locals. He appears to be very well loved, and to have a way with the ladies. As it's mostly ladies that stop by to chat to him on their way to the pub, he kisses their hand's and flirts with them as only a 60 year old polish man can get away with doing. Very soon after saying hello and chatting to the man for a second or two, we discover that he's hurt his hand. He shows us that he can't even move his arm without it hurting. As the Street Pastors talked to him, and find out what had happened with his hand they are slowly able to convince him to go to A&E (the ER). He hates any and everything relating to A&E, so as he gets into the ambulance it's like seeing a miracle unfold before our eyes. 

I watched all this at an awkward distance during this whole 30 minute discourse. Unsure what my role was in this situation. I was out tonight strictly as an observer, did that mean I was strictly to be "observing" in this situation? Why did I find myself wanting to be able to love homeless people like this team of Street Pastors was doing for this man. Wasn't that supposed to be  something that flawed naturally from me? Loving the homeless? 

My heart for the homeless is defiantly not a 'natural' heart. And yet my 'spiritual' heart does hurt to help the homeless. I find that both these 'hearts' tend to be at war with each other whenever I come face to face with homeless ministry. Which is really just a testimony of Jesus at work in me. 

The Cork Street Pastors break up their night half way through by heading back to base and having a cuppa and biscuits. And sharing with the prayer team there all that's been happening so far. 

Now is what I expect to be the tough part of the night. The mental game of staying awake and loving people. 

But much to my shock I actually get a "second wind" and as the night goes on my energy level actually increases. 

My senses are again assaulted by the sounds and smells of Cork at night as we head back into the city. 

My heart drops to my stomach when I see a man start to kick a girl. I realize it's only the angle at which I'm standing and he's simply kicking the wall next to the girl. 

Or seeing for the first time a man being punched. Hearing the contact of fist to nose. Then seeing the blood. Wondering at the ache in my heart, was it only because he was so incredibly easy on the eyes? 

I've been put in charge of the bottle count tonight with an actual button to push every time we get a bottle or come across broken glass that we sweep up. It becomes a game of "I spy", and a bit of a competition between the team to see who can collect the most glass. This game turns out to be a hard game to turn off after a night of it, and I constantly find myself wanting to pick up glass bottles from the streets of Dublin. 

The other bit of Street Pastoring that's hard to turn off is the desire to run across the way and help the man that's falling down drunk, the desire to just sit with him till he sobers up a bit. Or the desire to see that a group of underaged girls get home safe. Or that girl that's walking barefoot, to be able to offer her a pair of flip-flops, so she doesn't step on glass. Or the homeless girl in the doorway crying because maybe next year will be her year, (implying that this year wasn't), just wanting to hug her and hear her story. 

I have to wonder that this is such a struggle for me.... Just months ago I would have seen all those same people and simply stood in judgment of them. Why didn't that man know when to stop drinking before he was too drunk to stand up, or why are those school girls out?! Or that woman without shoes on... doesn't she know that's a dumb idea? And while we're speaking of dumb idea's, that homeless girl.... But now my heart aches to just love these people. 


"I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." Ezekiel 36v26

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Gomie

Gomie with her violets
Just over a week ago my grandmother walked out of this world and straight into the arms of Jesus. 

My heart hurts that I'll never again see her this side of heaven. 

There will be no more chats. No more lunches of sandwiches, crisps and milk. With cookies and coffee afterwards. Or those late night ice cream raids. No more Blue Blood marathons. No more cooking lessons. No sewing lessons. No caining lessons. No violets. Or tomatoes. No more bragging on me. No more introductions to randomers. No more wisdom. Questions. Pictures. Gossip. 

They say this season is a season of hope. This is the first year I understand what that means. As cliche as it sounds Jesus is the reason for the season. Because of His birth at Christmas, I look forward to Easter and His resurrection from the dead, "The last enemy to be destroyed is death." (1 Corinthians 15v26) For that reason I am able to cling to the promise  of Revolution 21v4 "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."

And in the words of Hunter Dockery,"when it says 'He will wipe every tear away', He's not merely wiping a tear from the cheek; He is putting His finger in your eye to wipe every tears away."

My mind goes next to the people that don't have this hope, is it any wonder depression is so real? If this life really is it and death really is the end... how do you get up in the morning? 

Because of the hope I have that death is not the end, I am able to  rejoice, even though my heart hurts, that my Gomie is once again with my Grandad. After 65 years of marriage, with almost a year gap, they're together again for eternity in heaven.



Hark the herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn king"
Peace on earth, and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With angelic host proclaim
"Christ is born in Bethlehem"
Hark the herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn king"


Hail the heaven born prince of peace
Hail the son of righteousness
Light and life to all he brings
Risen with healing in his wings


Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth
Hark the herald angels sing
"Glory to the newborn king"